Harry Potter III - A Hogwarts Story ARIAN
by Winterdancer
Summary: I added a new character into the THIRD HARRY POTTER BOOK ! (The whole book - so beware! It will be long!) A young witch with a mysterious past, dark powers, and a special ability. Also, Severus Snape is my favorite character ever, so there will be a link between Snape & Arian ! Please read & review ! I do not own the world of Harry Potter , except for Arian and her plotline.
1. Chapter 1

A Hogwarts Story

Book I

~ Arian ~

(Corresponding to HP: Book III)

~ DISCLAIMER ~

This story is set at the same time as the third book, "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban". I did not write that book and do not own any of these characters, except Arian and Flower. They are mine. I wrote this entirely for fun, not for profit or publication. I apologize for any errors or inconsistancies to canon or within the story! (Please forgive me and please, please, please comment in the reviews if you catch something! Thanks! ) In some places, I have deliberately and directly copied Ms. Rowling's words from her book. This is only in order to clarify the connection between my plot and hers. Once again, I credit Ms. Rowling with creating this world. I am adding another character and storyline in that world, but I am not stealing it. Also, my favorite character is Severus Snape, so look forward to a lot of interaction with the Potions master!

The sun was just slipping away when Professor McGonagall heard a light tapping noise that could have been a knock coming from the enormous double doors at the end of the corridor. There was a short silence, and then a light silvery voice called out: "Hello? Is there someone there?"

Skirts swishing, Professor McGonagall hurried to open the doors. Before her stood a young girl, no older than thirteen it seemed, and behind her, a small pile of luggage. She was rather pretty, but in a childish way. Her huge eyes conrtrasted her fair skin. They were deep and so dark that they were nearly black and had no reflections. Her face was framed with fine brown hair that hung straight to the middle of her back. She had long, sweeping lashes, a small nose, and a shy smile.

"This is Hogwarts… right? Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?" she asked, nervously glancing around. Her white dress was soiled and torn and she was obviously tired from long traveling.

The woman in the doorway, a teacher presumably, was wearing a long gown of black and emerald green materials. Behind her glasses, the grey eyes were kind, concerned, and confused. "Yes, this is Hogwarts," she answered with a slight nod. "What is your name, child?"

"Arian," said the girl. "I'm… I'm looking for a Professor McGonagall."

The woman regarded her silently, but not unkindly. Arian thought she was very elegant. "Well, you've come to the right place. Do come in, dear," the teacher said, coming out of her pensive thoughts and stepping aside.

Arian quickly snatched her two bags and slung a third and odd-looking case over her shoulder. She moved with quick and nervous actions, like she had been running for a long time, and she had finally arrived at a place where she could rest.

"I am Professor McGonagall," the woman introduced herself as she lead Arian inside. She was a stern-looking witch with square spectacles and her hair pulled in a tight bun. She was growing increasingly puzzled. Who was this girl, Arian, and why was she here on this, the thirty-first of August? The little girl beside her did not speak a word.

"What is it you carry?" McGonagall inquired by means of starting a conversation.

Arian's eyes were alight at once. "It's my harp," she answered happily.

"And have you come very far?" prodded McGonagall when the other did not elaborate.

She tipped her head. "I don't know. It's been maybe two weeks since I left home."

This made no sense to Professor McGonagall. She made a soft, worried noise. "My dear," she began in confusion, "You didn't come on the train?"

"What train?" said Arian blankly.

Again, McGonagall made a soft noise of distress. "Why! The Hogwarts Express, of course! The train left this morning at eleven o-clock! Students are not to be arriving until tomorrow night."

At this, Arian stopped short. "What?" she breathed, clearly mystified.

"You did receive a letter of acceptance, did you not?" McGonagall wanted to know.

"Yes. I mean… that's why I came here," stammered the girl.

McGonagall sighed. "Come along," she said. "Take your things and follow me."

Arian did as she was told, and as they walked, marveled at the building. The school was an ancient and mysterious castle, strong and grand and lit with torches. They went up stairs and down halls until at last, they arrived at a painting of a woman who demanded a password.

"Pheonix," the teacher replied. A door opened in the wall and they went into a large room filled with comfortable furniture. There were rugs on the floor and candles on the tables.

"This is the Gryffindor common room," explained Professor McGonagall. "I felt it would be a more relaxing place to discuss things than in my office."

Arian stood still, looking around her with wonder in her eyes. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her. McGonagall had the distinct impression that this girl was very sensitive and would startle easily.

"Do sit down," she invited.

Arian sat carefully down on the nearest chair.

"Now, you had better tell me everything."

Arian stared at her for a little while. Her eyes were wide and gentle, and her expression was soft and dreamy. When she spoke, it seemed to break a connection she had formed.

"What do you want to know?" She looked away quickly, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

McGonagall smiled. "Your full name for one, and how you came here," she replied.

The girl sat up very straight with her hands still folded. "My name is Arian Marie…" she trailed off. "My parents' name… but they weren't my real parents."

"Oh?"

"I don't remember them. They died when I was six. I remember the house. It was in ruins, and…" She covered her face with both hands. "They were dead. I remember their faces. I buried them, and then I ran away."

Professor McGonagall was struck by the calm terror that filled this child she was inclined to like instinctively. She wanted to comfort her, but: "Where did you go?" was all she said.

"A muggle family found me and raised me," answered Arian. "They were farmers, simple and caring people. They didn't mind when I would… well, do things."

McGonagall was wondering what sort of "things" she was talking about, but Arian rushed on. "They died too. Their faces were just the same, but I don't know how they died. I buried them."

"And then?"

"I came here," sighed the girl. Despite the fact that her adoptive parents had been killed only two weeks ago, she kept her voice steady. "I found this letter and… and… I didn't know where else to go!"

Her voice quivered and raised an octave, and she looked like she was on the verge of tears. She had hid her exhaustion well, but she obviously needed rest.

"Let me see the letter," McGonagall requested, standing up.

So, Arian scrambled out of the chair and opened the largest of her suitcases. An envelope was tucked inside an inner pocket, and she took it out and handed it to the older woman. McGonagall read it gravely.

"It tells me to come here by the end of August," Arian summarized from where she was sitting on the floor. "There's also a list of things I'd need." She continued hurriedly, sounding proud. "I got them all."

She opened the large suitcase wider and Professor McGonagall was pleasantly surprised to see a couldron, the formal robes folded nicely, a narrow box which she knew to be the wand, the required study books, as well as other volumes, and many individually wrapped packages that most likely contained the required potions ingredients. All was packed neatly into the black case. She turned her attention back to the letter.

"I must admit," she muttered, "this is curious." She looked over the top of her glasses at Arian. "This is in my hand-writing and it is a letter of acceptance, but…"

She turned the letter over in her fingers, slowly, bewildered. The problem was that she had never sent it!

She stopped herself short when she realized that the little girl in front of her was now blinking back tears. The girl had nowhere to go, no family… She had just been through a trauma, and she seemed to have magical potential. There was no better place for her to be than Hogwarts, and McGonagall had no intention of sending her away, now!

But the girl was already about to run again.

The hopeful light in Arian's dark eyes went out. "I… I'm sorry," she stuttered, clearly ashamed of a mistake she thought she had made. "I'll go now. I was misinformed." Her face clouded with sad confusion, she turned away.

"Miss. Arian, I did not dismiss you," Professor McGonagall said firmly, sounding very much like a school teacher. Arian froze, and turned slowly back with a look of absolute curiosity.

"It is dark now, and you must be tired," she added softly.

Arian blushed.

"You… you don't happen to have anything to eat, do you?" she asked timidly.

And she didn't know how the food got there, but there it was on platters set out on the tables. The smell was overwhelming. She hadn't realized just how hungry she was. She ate rapidly, and politely too, for all her hunger.

When she had finished (the food and drink simply disappeared), McGonagall asked her what sorts of "things" she had done while living with the Linksis family. Arian looked extremely uncomfortable.

"I didn't mean to do it," she exclaimed apologetically.

"Do what?" prodded the other.

She looked at the her feet. "I was angry," she muttered. "I broke the windows, all of them, just by thinking about it."

"Is that all?"

"No," she answered miserably. "I talk in my sleep a lot, and things would happen at night. Storms would come out of nowhere and go away when I woke up. They said there was a light flashing on and off in my room."

"Anything else?"

She nodded. "I accidently made all the locks come alive. They wouldn't lock or unlock unless you told them a joke. It was terrible. It took three days before they went back to normal!." She smiled a little slyly. "But I can do some things right," she offered.

Professor McGonagall went to the wall and opened it. "I'd be very interested to see. Wait here, child. I'd expect Professor Dumbledore will be equally as interested."

She was almost gone when Arian called softly after her, "Who's he?"

She turned back with a smile. "Headmaster of Hogwarts School and a fine wizard."

Her skirts swished, and the wall closed.

"She was raised by a muggle family," McGonagall was explaining as they hurried through the torch-lit halls. "She doesn't have many memories of her childhood, but she has extraordinary talent. I'm considering accepting her, despite the circumstances."

"Based on what you've told me," replied Dumbledore calmly, "I would be inclined to agree."

"You don't think I should tell her yet?" Minerva wanted to make sure.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Give her time."

For long hours, Arian demonstrated most everything she knew. She gestured to the candles, and with the word "sansfeuco", the flames went out. She gestured again with the word "feuconbri", and the candles were lit again. She spread her hands and spoke images into existence between her palms. She turned a notebook into a feather (but couldn't turn it back), and placed various charms on various object, and all the while the night grew darker and deeper.

Finally, she dropped her arms to her sides. "That's all I can think of," she said, looking pale and drained.

"Impressive," Professor Dumbledore commented.

Minerva McGonagall leaned forward. "There are a few questions I'd like to ask you." The girl nodded, but otherwise did not move. "Who taught you all of this?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "It must have been before my parents died."

"How old are you?"

"Twelve, just turned," she answered promptly.

"I see," mused Dumbledore. He gave an encouraging smile to Arian. "I have a question of my own," he added. "Where is your wand?"

Her face fell. "It's in there," she mumbled, pointing vaguely to her luggage.

"Get it out," he instructed gently. "I want to see what you can do with it."

She obediently retrieved the box and removed the slender black wand, but she held it with a tentative grasp. "What do you want me to do?"

To begin with, she was to repeat her demonstration of lighting the candles. She protested, saying it wasn't a good idea, but they insisted. Reluctantly, she pointed the wand at a candle and whispered, "Feuconbri." Instantly, the entire table was engulfed in flame.

"Sansfeuco! Sansfeuco!" she cried, dropping the wand and holding her palms towards the table. The fire went out.

She bit her lip. "Sorry."

McGonagall then decided to teach her the simple first-year levitation spell.

"Wingardium leviosa!" Arian tried and at once, most of the furniture lifted off the floor. "What do I do now?" she wanted to know.

"Ponere," Minerva told her.

"Ponere?" she repeated, and the hovering items settled back into place with a slam.

She rushed to put the wand back in the box and shoved it away into the suitcase.

"Minerva, might I have a word with you?" Dumbledore asked her quietly. They left the room quietly, and Arian was glad to be alone.

"There is no question about it," Albus Dumbledore was saying. "She must remain at the school. She has incredible potential."

"I agree, Albus," said the other, "but her lack of control with the wand is discouraging."

"Minerva," he said to her, his deep eyes serious, "the added energy of the wand to her own powers is overwhelming her. I only wish she remembered something from her childhood that could tell us more about her capabilities."

"You want to her to enter classes here?" concluded McGonagall.

"Naturally."

She shook her head thoughtfully. "She is a little too old to enter with the first-years…"

"And far too experienced," Dumbledore imterupted. "I'd say she should be in her third year already." He held up a hand to stop Minerva from voicing more concerns. "She's a fast learner. She'll do fine."

"Oh, very well," sighed Professor McGonagall at last. "If she gets sorted into Gryffindor, I'll see to it that Miss Granger will help her study."

"Ah, Hermione," Dumbledore said fondly to himself, his eyes twinkling.

They went back some time later to explain their decision to Arian. It was nearly dawn, and the poor girl was curled on a couch fast asleep an open book still in her hands.

Minerva sent her back to Diagon Alley the next day to exchange her books and purchase what she needed as a third year student. Since her adoptive parents were dead, Arian had taken whatever money she could find in what was left of the house. It was all she had. Fortunately, it was enough. By the afternoon, she actually had enough galleons left to buy a few of the things she wanted, including extra books, a pair of boots, and a tall glass bottle she'd seen in one of the shops. It was so pretty and sparkly. She couldn't resist.

When she returned, everyone was busy preparing for the arrival of the students and the beginning of the year. She'd caught glimpses of people, but she didn't know anyone, and was too shy to stop and ask them questions. She didn't want to be a disturbance. Instead, she wandered out onto the grounds and spent the afternoon outside in the autumn sun, exploring. She'd already been told not to go into the forest, and she didn't, but she went very close.

Later, she went back inside, walking around aimlessly until she was lost, and then walking some more until she was hopelessly lost. It didn't help that the staircases shifted under her or that some doors were locked and others opened on their own. The passages all looked familiar, but none of them were the same. Some ways were blocked, others went in circles. When she'd turn around to go back, the way she'd just come had closed. The entire castle was enchanted. She had uncharacteristically lost her sense of direction almost at once. North, west, east, and south were non-existent, and even up and down got confusing after a while.

Luckily, around night-fall, Professor McGonagall found her. She had somehow made her way half-way up the astronomy tower, and was just turning around to come back down when she heard running steps coming towards her. McGonagall looked flustered, and when she spoke, her tone was rushed and rebuking.

"There you are, child. Where have you been?" she demanded impatiently. She was wearing a pointed hat and solid black robes, and looked perfectly neat. "Come along," she sighed, seizing Arian's wrist.

Instinctively, she jerked backwards, yanking her arm free with a cut off cry. Her eyes were unfocused. She looked as if she had seen a monster.

Minerva stared at her. She had felt, before Arian pulled away, a burning sensation like an electric current running through the child. That was a reflexive defense in wizards, but she didn't understand what Arian was defending herself against!

"My dear, are you all right?" she inquired gently.

Already, Arian was blushing with embarrassment. "Sorry, Professor," she answered, holding her hand out meekly. McGonagall took it with no further questions and dragged her down to the main level to greet the new students.

They came up the stairs in a chattering group, and the noise of their whispers and footsteps echoed off the walls. Arian was at once terrified and filled with excitement. Extremely introverted, her first reaction was to withdraw from so many strangers, but she was overcome with sudden happiness. These weren't her classmates, but they were students, and this place was a school. It was beginning to seem real, now that there were other kids. She was going to Hogwarts School to study magic.

She was thrilled.

It got even better when the huge double doors to the Great Hall were opened, and she saw the four tables set for the feast, and the hundreds of students with their pointed hats, and the floating candles. The sparkling room was dazzling and bright. She walked with the first-years to wait in front of the High Table during the sorting ceremony.

Name after name was called, and her eyes strayed. She turned back to look at each of the tables, thinking of what she had been told about the houses. Ravenclaw was for wisdom, Slytherin for cunning, Gryffindor for bravery, and Huflepuff for loyalty. She looked at each table in turn. She wondered who Hermione was, because Dumbledore had said that Hermione could help her get started.

Then, at the far table, she noticed a young man, about her age it seemed. He had icy blue eyes, fair skin, and slicked blonde hair. He also had an air of arrogant confidence about him. He sat at the Slytherin table and looked kind of mean, but she didn't care.

He looked up right then and caught her staring at him. For a few seconds, he stared back at her, haughtily. Then he gave her a half-smile and went back to talking with his friends.

"Miss Arian."

That was her name being called, and it sounded odd because everyone else had had a first and a last name. She jumped, startled, but was instantly composed again. She turned, lowering her eyes shyly so as not to meet anyone's gaze, stepped forward, and seated herself on the stool. The sorting hat was placed upon her head, and she looked very small and childish because of it.

"Mmmm," mused the hat, but not for long, because almost immediately it seemed to have come to a conclusion. "Slyther…" it began, and stopped.

There was a pause before the hat continued. "I see," it said. "But I still think Slytherin for you. You're talented, and you have a quick mind."

Arian wanted to be in Slytherin, but she also wanted to be in the same House as Hermione. And she wanted friends, very close and loyal friends, and that desire was even stronger than her desire to learn.

"Very well, then. Gryffindor!" announced the hat.

Cheers went up from the other Gryffindor students.

At the far table, the boy seemed highly displeased.

Amidst the noise, the hat continued. "Be cautious," it muttered almost to itself in a low and nervous tone. "You have great and dangerous power, more than you know. You too have been touched by he-who-must-not-be-named."

But no-one in the Great Hall heard that comment. "Well, Gryffindor it is, then," said Professor McGonagall to Arian, taking off the hat.

The girl stood up and moved to sit with her classmates. There were gold plates and goblets, forks, knives, spoons, and platters laid out on the table. The long benches on either side of the table were filled with the students of Gryffindor House. She stepped over the bench, and sat down at an empty place towards the front of the hall.

The sorting ceremony continued, but was soon over, and then the new students were welcomed and the feast began. Arian didn't talk much. She was too busy trying to look at everything at once. The ceiling… it was fantastic! It wasn't there! And the food was dazzling, and there were so many people, and so much excitement!

Her eyes scanned the High Table, looking in turn from Professor Dumbledore to Professor McGonagall to a small man whom someone told her was Professor Flitwick, and so on until she spotted a man dressed all in black with cold black eyes and a grave expression.

"Please tell me that's not one of the teachers here," she whispered to the person sitting next to her.

He followed her quick glance. "Oh," he almost laughed. "That's Professor Snape."

"Great," she muttered. Professor of what, she didn't know, but he gave her the shivers.

The night passed far too quickly. She met a few people, falling in and out of conversations, but all too soon, the prefects began calling their houses. She followed the other Gryffindors out of the Great Hall to the shifting staircases. They were lead to the common room, and she already knew the way.

She thought about the boy she had seen during the ceremony, and wondered what his name was. She had wanted to talk with him but never had gotten a chance.

Just then, one of the students bumped into her. "Oh, sorry!" they both said at once.

"What's your name?" Arian asked courteously.

"I'm Ron Weasley," replied the red haired boy, a little breathlessly from trudging up the stairs. He motioned to his friends and introduced them as well. "This is Harry Potter, and…"

"I am Hermione Granger," interrupted a girl with thick brown hair, beautiful eyes, and an air of intelligence. It was obvious by the way she held herself and the way she spoke. She was smart, and she knew it.

Arian looked at the dark haired boy with the glasses. "Hello Harry," she greeted him simply. She turned her smile towards the girl. "So you're Hermione! I'm Arian."

They chatted all the way until they reached the common room. There, Harry and Ron waved goodnight, and Hermione took Arian into the girl's dormitory.

Arian found her things placed beside a beautiful four-poster bed beside a window. On a chair nearby was a set of clothes and a scarf displaying the house colors. She slipped her shoes off and crawled up onto the huge bed. She smiled. In all of Hogwarts castle, this was her spot, and it was lovely.

She bounced on the mattress, just a little, and then settled next to the window. It was a gorgeous night. The light of the moon illuminated her face and her silky hair. She wanted to bring out her harp and play it, but didn't because of the time. Everyone else was going to bed.

After awhile, Arian did change and go to bed as well, but it was a very, very long while. She was far too happy to be tired.


	2. Harry Potter III Arian - chapitre 2

So, classes began. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were elated when they found out that Arian would be in their year, and Hermione was especially excited about tutoring. Her only disappointment was that Arian learned so quickly. Her enthusiasm actually turned out to be really good for Hermione, who was, by the way, still the cleverest witch in all of Hogwarts. Hermione was taking practically every class offered, even when they occurred simultaneously. That was a source of great mystification to her friends, but she wouldn't explain. So, it made things a lot easier for her when she didn't have to worry about teaching Arian. In a mere month, she had, for the most part, made up for two years of missed studies.

The one exception was flying lessons. That took her quite a while to catch onto. While all the others were in the air on their brook-sticks, practicing maneuvoring, Arian was usually still on the ground, or staying close to it. It wasn't that she was afraid of heights. She liked being in high places! It's just that she didn't like flying.

At all.

Ron teased her constantly that she didn't like it because she wasn't good at it, and that was partly true.

Arian did very well at most all of the classes she was taking. She excelled in Charms, was bored to death in Divination, and genuinely enjoyed the History lessons. Transfigurations was one of her favorites, even though she sometimes struggled with assignments. Overall, everything was going great…

Until they went to potions class.

"You sit over there," Hermione pointed on the first day.

The boy with the platinum blonde hair was smiling smugly. Arian went to take her seat, which was just in front of him. He gave her a challenging stare. "Whatever!" she muttered as she sat down and began setting out her things. She felt a sharp tug on her hair.

"Ow!" she exclaimed in annoyance, turning around.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," he stated, and held out his hand. She shook it politely.

"Pleasure," she replied, almost sarcastically. She didn't like people pulling her hair.

"And you're Arian," Draco continued. "Got into Gryffindor, huh?" She nodded. He shot a distasteful glance towards Harry, but before he could add anything, she answered.

"You're in Slytherin," she noted. She really didn't understand why she liked him. Strangely, though, she did, and she really wanted to be friends, if they could. "Only the most cunning are chosen for it."

He looked pleased. Good. Keep talking about houses. It was a safe subject.

"I think you'll like potions," he said abruptly.

Okay. Change the topic. It didn't matter. He obviously had a grudge against her friends, and she just didn't want him to hate her as well.

"Why's that?" she wondered.

Draco grinned. "They're hard. Only the really smart people who like this sort of stuff can really do them right."

She knew he wasn't talking about Hermione. She was walking a fine line. How could she possibly stay close to her friends and get to know Draco at the same time? She'd worry about that later.

"Who's the teacher?" she asked next.

The side door to the dungeons swung open, and in came Professor Snape with a quick stride.

"Oh no," she whispered to herself.

All the students fell silent and sat waiting. Arian sat very straight with her hands folded. A slow shiver crept through her.

Snapes' eyes moved from one person to the next. "I will have this class to understand," he spoke in a soft tone and his words were perfectly clear, "that I teach lessons once and only once. We will not slow down for any reason. Or any person." He looked directly at Arian. It was a strange and searching look and he held her gaze for long moments. She cringed but forced herself to look straight back into his eyes.

"Chapter one, page seven in your study books," he ordered quietly, and turned sharply away. (Arian let out a long breath.) "Now!"

"I never ever want to go back there!" she exclaimed adamantly. Potions was over, and they were going to lunch in the Great Hall. Arian was almost running in her haste to get away.

"Slow down!" Harry grabbed her arm.

"You did fine," Hermione said comfortingly. "Especially paired with Malfoy."

"At least Snape didn't ask you impossible questions in front of everyone," Harry put in, remembering his first class with a smile.

"Tell me about it," Ron added. "He didn't correct you once!"

Arian was shaking her head. "No, not that. I mean, class was fun! It's my favorite. After all, it was really easy. I just don't ever want to go back!"

The three exchanged puzzled looks.

Arian had very little free time. To begin with, there was very little free time to be had. After classes and meals, there was always loads of homework. To make the schedule more challenging, she had an extra class. While Harry was in Quidditch practise and Hermione was studying, Arian spent two hours every other afternoon in private studies with Dumbledore.

Dumbledore, concerned about her control of her powers and not wanting any accidents, had suggested that she not use the wand in class. That was also the reason for these lessons.

On this particular afternoon, they were getting nowhere. She had tried spell after spell, and each time had caused such a disaster that she was now terrified of doing anything! Instead of levitating the chairs, she had crushed them. Instead of shutting the glass cabinet, she had shattered it. She had just conjured a huge flock of wild birds with the word "avis", and they were creating utter pandemonium.

"Evanesco!" Dumbledore commanded, effectively eliminating the birds. The room was suddenly quiet. Arian stood for a moment, trembling and with tears in her big eyes.

"I can't do this!" she cried furiously. She flung her wand way from her, bursting into tears and whirling around to hide her face. Nothing had gone right. She kept failing over and over. She just couldn't do it! How could she ever be a witch when she ruined everything she tried?

Behind her, Albus Dumbledore carefully picked up her wand from the floor. "You're doing fine," he said, approaching her. He came slowly beside her, and she turned away, scrubbing the tears from her cheeks. "Now," his tone was cheerful, "let's try again."

"I don't want to."

Her words were defiant and left no room for a reply, and Dumbledore didn't reply at once. "This is a good wand," he began finally, as if talking about the weather. He touched her shoulder and she looked up at him. Her eyes were angry, and hurt, and disappointed, and sad, and apologetic all at once. "And you are a very clever young witch," he added.

He held the wand out to her with both hands. Arian looked at it suspiciously. "You can do many wonderful things," he told her gently, oh so gently. But then he said, "if you don't give up so quickly."

The hope in her face went out the instant he said the word "if", but then he smiled, and she realized he was chiding her. She smiled back and took back her wand.

"Accio globe!" Arian declaried confidently, pointing it at a nearby globe. There was a flash of bright light and a crackling noise, and nothing happened. She'd failed again. She looked absolutely enraged with herself.

"Why don't you try holding it this way?" Albus suggested. He took the wand from her, and reached for her wrist. She flinched. He pressed the wand into her hand and wrapped her fingers tightly around the handle. Resolutely, she pointed it again at the globe, but her hand was shaking. "Well, go ahead then!" he encouraged.

Arian steadied her hand. "Accio globe," she murmured as quietly as possible. The globe shifted forward and stopped.

"Say it clearly," Dumbledore advised.

She was an impatient girl. "Acci…" she began again, almost shouting.

"No, no! Just speak the word strongly and clearly."

"Okay, okay, okay," she muttered, taking a deep breath.

"Don't think about it," he continued. "Just say the word and let it flow out of you."

She was giving the globe a very mean look.

"And relax!" he added.

"All right!" Arian tilted her head, pointed her wand once again at the globe, and said carelessly, "Accio globe." It sailed to her, and she caught it with her left hand.

"Very good," Dumbledore praised.

Arian was beaming.

A few days passed. They had Astronomy on Wednesday night, and Charms, Divination, and Arithmacy the next day. Arian had no idea what Hermione found so exciting about Arithmacy. She hated it! Trying to figure out meaning from numbers wasn't her strongest point. She was whimsical; Hermione was logical, and that was the biggest different between them.

Herbology was on Friday afternoon. Arian acted slightly odd all through class, moving very carefully and walking softly. They were planting Flitterblooms, and when she dropped her trowel, she wouldn't bend down to pick it up. Instead, she knelt and fumbled around with her hand until she found it.

After class, she grabbed Hermione's arm and pulled her away from the other students.

"Harry! Ron! Come over here! Come, quick!" she cried.

Curious as to what she was so happy about, they hurried over. She opened the top of her robe, looking around to make sure no one else but her friends could see. Her tie was loosened and her shirt was partly unbuttoned. For a horrible second, Harry thought she was going to do something indecent, but she only moved a bit of her shirt.

Curled against her chest was a small creature, fast asleep.

"I found it on the way to class," she explained in a hushed tone.

All Ron could see was a fluffy ball of grey fur. "What is it?" he asked blankly.

Arian's face was glowing with delight. "It's a baby!" she breathed. It stirred a little, and lifted its head. "Look!" she squeaked. "Look how little it is!" Tenderly, she stroked the dark stripe along it's forehead and down its back. It made a small noise and clutched at her fingers with its front paws.

"That's a Lacsar," stated Hermione.

"You should really take that to see Hagrid," Harry advised.

Arian gave him a reproving look. "Hagrid?" she repeated uncertainly.

Hermione shifted her books importantly. "Lacsars get bigger than a cat, and they're aggressive," she began. "They can understand any language, but they can't be trained. They're solitary…" she stopped. "Arian, are you listening?"

Arian was cradling the Lacsar kit in both hands. It was about twice the size of a small rat with naked pink paws and a prehensile tail. It was a sooty grey color and its fur was messy and course. It had a beautiful white mask on its face and black rings around its eyes and huge adorable ears.

"Arian?" Harry nudged her.

"Isn't she so cute?" Arian drawled.

"She's in love!" Ron groaned.

"You aren't going to keep it, are you?" Harry exclaimed.

"It's going to grow up! It will get teeth!" Hermione put in. "Besides, you don't even know how to take care of it!"

Arian was way too far gone. "It's so young," she mused, oblivious to them. "It should still be with its mother for the next three weeks."

"What if it dies?" Harry pointed out sensibly.

She looked shocked. "It won't die! I'm going to take care of it! When it gets bigger, it won't even know how to live on its own."

Her friends desperately tried to talk her out of it. What would the teachers say? Where would she keep it? What would she feed it?

"I think," she interrupted them dreamily, "I think I'll name her Flower."

"Uh-oh," Ron said. "We're doomed."

To her friends' great surprise, Flower was sweet and docile. Arian nurtured the creature and gave it endless attention. In the day, she hid it in the top of her shirt, where it slept listening to her heartbeat. Whenever she had a chance, she let it out to play. In the evenings, she put it in the dormitory, and at night, it slept on the pillow beside her. It grew a little, and its teeth came in. They were small, but it could eat solid fruits and things. She kept a dish of food and water on the floor. Flower remained a secret between the four of them for a long, long while, and in that while, classes continued as usual.

Arian was getting much better at flying, not that she liked it any more than she had before, but at least she was improving. She had mastered the basic concepts and was getting more stable and at ease. She was even beginning to want to join the others. She was still staying very low to the ground, but now it was mostly because Madam Hooch said it would be too dangerous for her to go higher. Her abilities were still a year and a half behind the others, and she could get hurt by accident.

On this particular afternoon, they were all practicing sudden stops. Arian, left to herself, made it slightly more simple. While all the others were stopping out of a full acceleration, she concentrated just on moving forward, stopping, moving forward again, and so on. After a quarter of an hour of this, she began watching the other students. They were all better than her, but it was extremely obvious to tell who was at the top of the class.

Harry and Draco were streaking about faster than everyone else each trying to beat the other with crazier and more elaborate stunts. Harry completed a series of maneuvers while standing upright on the broomstick. Malfoy aimed straight for a wall and swerved aside at the last second, going into a flip to avoid colliding with another Slytherin.

"Oh, they're good," she muttered in awe.

She watched for a while longer and then flew off on her own. She had a million things she wanted to try, and she wanted to see how fast she could do them.

After class, there was a short break. Arian didn't even have a chance to get off of her broom, when she heard Draco's voice from behind her.

"You really aren't so bad, for a Gryffindor," he commented in his usual superior tone. He was hovering a few feet away at her level, looking absolutely dashing in his black robes.

"You really aren't so bad for a Slytherin," she returned with a smile.

He seemed to like that. He grinned briefly and fell silent, looking her over closely as though he were testing her. Arian suddenly realized how different they were, and her heart sank. She had really wanted to be friends, and maybe… more than friends… with him. But after all, they were in different and feuding houses, and besides that, he was an aristocrat! His father was in a position of authority at the Ministry of Magic, and they were very wealthy.

The breeze caught her robes and swept her hair across her face. He was still staring at her. She as just wondering what he was thinking about when he apparently came to a decision.

"I'll race you to the Willow and back," he dared her.

This was a test. She hesitated. To get to the Whomping Willow, she'd have to fly over the castle, and she'd never gone that high up before.

"What?" Draco sneered, his sharp eyes still watching her. "You scared?"

"No!" she retorted indignantly.

Arian didn't bother to give him a signal. She leaned forward and took off.

It wasn't a fair race. Arian's head-start gave her no advantage. He passed her easily. She was using the one of the school's beginner brooms, and he was on a Nimbus 2001. It just wasn't fair at all!

Carefully, Arian released the broom handle with her right hand, keeping a firm grip with her left hand and trying to steady it. Draco was way ahead of her, even though she knew he wasn't going nearly as fast as he could. She reached for her wand, pointed it at the Nimbus, and spoke the spell words clearly and without blinking.

Draco's broom twitched and slowed down. He tried to turn it and it kept going straight. Usually, the littlest touch would guide it wherever he wanted, but it was jerky and unpredictable now. It could still do the basic things like stop, go, and turn, but that was all. All of the luxuries built into his Nimbus had been jinxed. It felt suspiciously like a beginner's broom.

The Whomping Willow was in sight, and he urged the broom faster. Arian was ahead of him. The rounded the tree side by side and headed back, and when they were a safe distance away, Malfoy turned sharply in front of her, cutting her off. She pulled back, automatically, managing to stay on the broom. It gave him the lead.

Malfoy still won, despite the fact that she had crippled his broom.

"What did you do to it?" he demanded outraged when they were both on the ground.

She strode over to it. "Nothing I can't fix," she nearly snapped, taking out her wand again.

He was a lot more amiable when she had undone whatever she'd done and handed him the Nimbus again.

"Maybe you'll beat me next time," he told her as she put her broom away.

"You're the Slytherin Seeker," she reminded him. "Like I have a chance!"

They went off to their next classes without another word.

Arian walked all the way to Professor Trewlaney's classroom in the North Tower, lost in thought. She'd never flown that high, or that fast, or with only one hand. It was fun, and that surprised her. Arian was already looking forward to their next flying class. There was so much she was determined to improve. She had only started flying a few weeks ago, and she was beginning to like it.


	3. Harry Potter III Arian - chapitre 3

"Sit down, dear," Professor Trelawney invited as Arian scrambled through the trapdoor into the attic. Trelawney was wearing a flowing gown of grey silk that made her blend into the shadows. "Come, come sit here," came her wispy voice, and she motioned to the center of small room. Arian went to sit on the floor.

In a few minutes time, everyone was present. The furniture had been moved to the walls, and the students sat on the floor.

"A pleasant afternoon to you, children," Professor Trelawney greeted them as she usually did. "I have spent much time in a trance and I sense that some of us are not yet ready to fully trust their Inner Eye."

Hermione rolled her eyes. In an exaggerated imitation, she whispered, "I have spent much time in a trance and…" Harry and Ron covered their mouths to keep from laughing.

"I understand, of course, that it is a delicate study that is beyond any physical understanding." She paused and addressed Parvati. "I am sorry my dear, but I must tell you that you will soon encounter your greatest fear." She went on. "The Gift of vision and intuition is granted to a select few, as you know. I wish to help those who are gifted here to embrace their abilities and to aid those who are skeptical in relaxing their conciousness."

"Great," Ron said sarcastically to Harry.

Trelawney's great lavender eyes moved to them and filled with tears. She had predicted Harry's death at the first class and ever since had been unable to look at him without an expression of tender sorrow. It was unbearable.

"Do lie down, children," Trelawney told them in a misty voice. "Today, we will discover the peace of meditation. Make yourselves comfortable. I want you to focus on your breathing."

On the other side of the room, Hermione put a couple of pillows on the floor. "This is stupid," she declared, not quite whispering. "Now I have to learn how to breathe!"

"Close your eyes," Professor Trelawney instructed as if she hadn't heard. "Relax and listen to my voice. I am not going to do anything to you. Those with the Gift will find self-hypnosis to be refreshing and enlightening. Relax. Relax. There is a river of cool water. Let it flow over you. Feel the water moving down your arms and out your fingers. Relax. Breathe in slowly and deeply. Release. Breath in. Relax."

"I'm about to fall asleep!" muttered Ron, and Harry, unable to resist, began to snore very softly. Hermione giggled, but no one else noticed. The room was silent except for the sound of rhythmic breathing and Trelawney's far-away voice prompting and coaxing.

To Arian, it was rather peculiar how easy going into trance was. Maybe that was why she felt so bored. Divination was not something she was ecstatic about like Lavender Brown, but she wasn't cynical like Hermione either. She took slow, deep breaths and felt her entire weight going into the ground. Her hands felt heavy, as if she couldn't lift them. Her eyes were closed, and she doubted that she could open them if she wanted to.

She saw something. It was black and dense. It passed by her bedroom door. It went into the other room. She saw blinding green light. She heard screaming. It was loud! Someone was crying! It was so loud! There was noise from behind her ears!

She heard another scream, but this one wasn't in her head. She had cried out and scared herself awake. Had she been asleep? She took a breath. It was shaky. Why was she frightened? Where was she? She opened her eyes.

She was sitting straight upright. Her body was shaking violently. The students all had their eyes open. Most were propped on their elbows, looking at her curiously, but she could see her friends already on their feet, worried. She gave them a weak smile.

"What did you see, dear?" Professor Trelawney inquired gently.

Arian thought about it. "I don't know," she answered truthfully.

"Yes," Trelawney sighed patiently. "Sometimes the Inner Eye shows us things that we do not understand. In time, it will be made clear to you."

Arian squinted to see the clock through the gloom. Half an hour had passed. She looked again. That had to be wrong. It had felt like ten minutes!

Trelawney pulled Arian to her feet. "I think you have had enough for today," she murmured. "Go and rest. You have had a dreadful vision and the Sight needs time to purify itself." She opened the trapdoor.

Arian, entirely bewildered glanced at her friends. "What happened?" they mouthed at her, and she shrugged and shook her head, her eyes big and confused.

The class didn't let out for another hour, and Arian spent that time on her bed playing her harp. She had no idea what had just happened.

Fortunately, there were only two classes scheduled for the rest of the day. She could not focus, and didn't hear a word of Professor Binn's lecture on the origin of enchantments on inanimate objects. In Transfigurations, she had no success at all in trying to turn a book into a scroll. Hermione managed it perfectly. She even transferred the words correctly.

Arian couldn't figure out what was wrong with her.

She found herself watching the others intently. She looked from one student to the next and finally made eye contact with Ron. She didn't realize she was staring.

"Would you stop it?" he hissed at her, feeling dreadfully uncomfortable.

She jumped. Stop what? What had she been doing? But before she could ask him, Professor McGonagall swept over and stood beside her desk.

"Miss Arian, could you try to concentrate on the lesson, please?" she sighed. There was a strange expression on her face, as if she was aware of something that Arian didn't know.

Arian looked up, instinctively seeking McGonagall's eyes with her own. "But Professor," she protested. "What was I doing? I didn't mean to!"

McGonagall wouldn't look at her. "I know you didn't, dear," she replied calmly, and left to help a boy on the other side of the room.

Arian put her head in her hands, leaning on the desk. She'd had a vision that she didn't remember, she'd done something just now that she didn't know, Ron looked scared of her, and McGonagall wouldn't meet her eyes.

She was so confused.

Their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class was after lunch on Thursday. Harry, Ron, and Arian were sitting in the classroom, waiting for Hermione, who had disappeared.

Hermione had been acting really weird. She'd carried around all of her books all day long and only had three classes. Actually, she was scheduled for about ten classes, but they all happened at the same time. In the Great Hall, she sat at the Gryffindor table, engrossed in her Arithmacy book and hardly eating although she had said she was starving.

Right then, she walked into the classroom and put her things down on the desk next to Ron. Professor Lupin still wasn't there. Everyone had out their books and parchments and were talking by the time he entered the room.

"Would you please put all your things back in your bags," he requested. "Today's will be a practical lesson. You will only need your wands."

Arian blushed uncomfortably. She had been having less success in her private lessons, and really wasn't sure if she should attempt anything. Without her wand… well, she wasn't completely powerless, but her abilities were limited.

The wand that had chosen her was made of ebony, the most powerful of magical woods. The problem was that she couldn't control it.

Professor Lupin looked as shabby as ever, but his manner was warm and friendly. "Now, if you'd follow me," he addressed the class, and they got to their feet. They followed him down two empty corridors and he stopped outside the staff-room door.

"Inside, please," he said, standing back and holding open the door.

Arian looked past him. The staff-room was a long paneled room full of old chairs. She shuddered, suddenly dreading to go inside. The room was empty, except for one teacher. Professor Snape was sitting in a low armchair.

Her first thought was that Snape was waiting to teach the class. Her next thought was that she really didn't want to be there. She held back as the rest of the class filed in and stood just outside the door out of sight.

Lupin, not noticing her to be missing, had made to close the door.

"Leave it open," Snape ordered. "I'd rather not witness this."

She heard him cross the room. "Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but Mr. Longbottom is in this class." His tone was almost indifferent, controlled, and perfectly clear as usual. "I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult," he continued coldly. "Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear."

Lupin replied something that she scarcely heard, and a moment later, Snape strode from the room, his black robes billowing behind him. She had no time to move.

"Miss Arian," he greeted her civilly, and she forced herself to relax. His black eyes moved to the class and back to her. "What would you possibly be doing lingering in the hallways?" he mused with an expression that told her he already knew. She had been trying to avoid him, but that had obviously not worked out as she had planned. "The lesson's just begun. I'm sure you wouldn't want to miss anything." He gestured to the door with a slight bow and waited until she had gone in. Then, he shut the door.

"Nothing to worry about," Professor Lupin was saying calmly. "There's a boggart in there."

The wardrobe against the far wall rocked side to side suddenly. Several people were looking quite worried. Arian ran over to join her friends.

"So," Lupin went on, "the first question we must ask is, what is a boggart?"

Hermione put up her hand. "It's a shape-shifter," she answered. "It can take the shape of whatever will frighten us most."

Ron elbowed Arian, looking towards the door with a grin.

"No way!" Arian whispered. "He's very elegant and formal and… and he just makes me nervous! That's all!"

"All right," Ron agreed hastily in a way that made her think he didn't believe her.

Lupin was explaining about boggarts. "When I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears. This means that we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?"

Harry tried to ignore Hermione, who was bobbing up and down with her hand in the air. "Because there are so many of us it won't know what shape it should be?"

"Precisely." Professor Lupin proceeded to teach them a charm that would repel the boggart. He then told them all to think of whatever frightened them most and determine what to do to make it comical.

"Everyone ready?" asked Lupin. Arian certainly wasn't, but Lupin was talking again. "Neville, we're going to back away, let you have a clear field." He pointed his wand at the handle of the wardrobe. "On the count of three. One, two, three, now!"

A jet of sparks shot from the end of his wand and hit the doorknob. The wardrobe burst open. Out stepped Snape, his eyes flashing at Neville.

"R-r-riddikulus!" Neville squeaked.

There was a noise like a whip crack. Snape was wearing a lacey gown. All of the students roared with laughter, except Arian who seemed insulted by it.

Professor Lupin shouted, "Parvati! Forward!"

With a sharp crack, a mummy appeared, its sightless face turned to Parvati.

"Riddikulus!" she cried, and the mummy became entangled in its own bandages. It fell face forward, and its head rolled off.

"Seamus!" called Lupin.

Instantly, a banshee appeared where the mummy had been, screaming an unearthly and terrible wail.

"Riddikulus!" yelled Seamus, and the banshee lost her voice.

"You! Arian!" Professor Lupin called next.

She jumped and her long eyelashes flapped as she blinked at him in surprise. She looked back to see the boggart advancing on her. The rest of the class stared blankly. It was nothing but a deep dark shadow floating towards her, reaching out of the blackness towards her wrists. She took a step backwards and another and another in retreat, holding out her wand in front of her as if to push it away.

"She doesn't know what to turn it into," Hermione muttered to Harry.

Arian closed her eyes tightly, trying desperately to think of something.

"Riddikulus!" she cried, and the shadow shattered into a hundreds of fluttering butterflies.

With a crack, the butterflies turned into a rat, which turned into a rattlesnake, which turned into a single eyeball.

"It's confused!" shouted Lupin. "We're getting there! Dean!"

The eyeball became a severed hand, which crawled along the floor like a crab. Dean pointed his wand at it. "Riddikulus!" he yelled, and the hand was caught in a mousetrap. Ron was next, and the other students screamed when a towering spider appeared, clicking its pincers. Ron took its legs off and it rolled over and over, coming to land at Harry's feet.

"Here!" That was Lupin. The legless spider was gone, and it took everyone a short while to find the boggart. It had formed into a silver orb hanging in the air.

"Riddikulus," Lupin said lazily.

It landed on the floor as a cockroach, and Neville stepped forward again, determined. Snape was back . Again, Neville shouted the charm, but this time, they only caught a glimpse of the dress and the hat before Neville started laughing. The boggart exploded, burst into tiny wisps of smoke, and was gone.

Everyone was talking excitedly when the class was over. Only Harry seemed thoughtful, but no one besides Arian seemed to have noticed that. He was wondering why Lupin had deliberately stopped him from facing the boggart.

"I don't know," Arian told him sympathetically.

"What?" he replied.

She recovered quickly. "I don't know what's bothering you."

"That was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts class we've ever had!" Ron interrupted enthusiastically. He looked at Arian, his expression changing to a look of confusion. "Hey, what was that thing?" he asked her, referring to what the boggart had become for her.

She answered almost sadly. "I wish I could tell you," she sighed.

"You don't know what you're afraid of?" Hermione said in disbelief.

"Not really," Arian admitted.

"Well," concluded Hermione, "I wish I could have had a turn with the boggart."

"What would it have been for you?" Ron sniggered. "A piece of homework that only got nine out of ten?"

Hermione glared at him. Arian kept herself from giggling… but it took a lot of self control.

It was the start of October. Little Flower was the size of a young cat. Crookshanks seemed to have made friends with the Lacsar and the two were often seen playing or sleeping together on Hermione's bed. Arian absolutely adored her pet, but was beginning to get concerned. Hermione was right. Flower was going to get bigger, much bigger than Crookshanks, and adult Lacsars were dangerous. The small creature still slept in her bed at night, its tail wrapped around her fingers. She couldn't very well let it loose in the woods, but she also couldn't keep a fully grown Lacsar.

Meanwhile, Quidditch practice had begun. There were three evening training sessions per week, and Harry always looked exhausted after them. The Gryffindor team had lost the Quidditch Cup to Slytherin for seven cinsecutive years, and Wood was driving the team harder than ever. The weather was growing steadily worse, and he came back from practice later and later each time. Arian always waited up for him, reading while Hermione studied, and Harry was always in high spirits.

The two girls were fairly running down the stone corridors, their robes flapping at their ankles as they dodged the other students. Arian was a few steps behind her friend, and seemed to be hanging back purposefully. All at once, and not quite by accident, her books fell to the ground, and she stopped immediately and knelt down to pick them up.

Ahead of her, Hermione stopped too, sighing with impatience.

"All right," she said firmly as she came back to help, "what's wrong?"

Arian looked up in surprise. "What do you mean?"

Hermione crossed her arms. "All morning you've been acting…" She paused. "Queer."

Arian got up and they began walking again. "It's nothing," she answered. "Just a headache."

"Tell me what's the matter," Hermione demanded.

Arian shook the hair out of her eyes. "I don't want to go to potions class today," she declared almost angrily.

"That's silly!" cried Hermione. "Potions are easy for you."

"I know," Arian replied.

Hermione suddenly understood. She rolled her eyes. "Professor Snape?" she asked, and her friend nodded. "Arian! He's not going to hurt you!"

Arian's eyes flashed hard and bright at that rebuke. "I know!" she retorted defensively, "But he still frightens me."

"Why?" Hermione exclaimed. "Oh, never-mind," she continued. "Look, he's not my favorite teacher either, but we're going to be late! We know how strict he is, and I really don't want to get in trouble."

Arian slowed down, holding her books against her. "Go ahead," she said softly. "I'll be there in a minute."

Hermione peered at her closely. "Okay," she agreed reluctantly. She ran off and her tapping footsteps echoed in the now empty hall.

Alone, Arian leaned against the rough stone wall and took a deep breath. She pulled the potions guide from her stack of study books and flipped through the pages for a what seemed like only few seconds. Then, she pushed herself off the wall, realizing the time. She began to run. Hermione was right, as usual.

She was going to get in so much trouble.

She paused for a moment to listen when she reached the door to the dungeons. Snape was right in the middle of a lecture on memory potions. She winced. Bracing herself, she leaned against the door, opening it just enough to slip through. Snape stopped talking.

She kept her eyes on the floor and went straight to her seat and sat down. Professor Snape took three steps and stood immediately in front of her. She didn't dare look at him.

"You're late," he snarled.

He turned away from her, and she sighed with apprehensive relief. Snape wasn't one to let tardiness go without consequences, especially from a Gryffindor student.

"So," he said in a tone like silk, "now we see if you've done your homework."

Some of the Slytherins laughed quietly. Under the table, Arian twisted her fingers nervously, but she tried to look straight back into Snape's eyes.

He gave her a thin smile and asked: "What ingredients are needed to prepare a Petrification Fluid and, how are they prepared?"

She blinked. That wasn't fair. That hadn't been the homework. They hadn't covered it yet! She looked to Hermione for help. Hermione mouthed something that she couldn't read. Snape stepped subtly between them, blocking her vision.

"Aconite," she started. She had read ahead in the book. She just had to remember what it said. "The leaves are boiled."

"And?" Snape prompted.

There was a stone. "Moonstone," she tried.

"Incorrect."

"Bezoar!" she corrected herself hastily. "Powedered bezoar and the essence of belladonna."

He stared at her for long seconds. She held her breath.

"As I was saying," he addressed the rest of the class softly, "before we were interrupted…"

She shut her eyes with relief.

"The Joberknoll feathers must be perfectly prepared." His glance flicked to Neville. "There are some of us who tend to overlook these things."

He took a phial of green liquid from the table behind him and held it up for the class to see. "I expect everyone to pay close attention today," Snape said softly. He hardly ever raised his voice, which made it all the more terrifying. "This is a forgetfulness drought. Anyone who drinks it will loose all of their memories for twenty hours."

Most of the students stared at it uncomfortably. Snape set it behind him and went on. "Should I see any inappropriate behavior during class, while making your memory potions, we will have to test them."

The threat was effective. Already, everyone was sitting straighter, smoothing their study books open, and preparing their parchments.

"Put your books away!" Snape ordered sharply.

It was a silent, focused class. They worked individually, and no one wanted to have their memories blocked. Poor Neville was trembling with nervousness, and Hermione didn't dare help him. Arian succeeded in ignoring Malfoy who was tugging on her hair. She was good at potions and she finished before the rest of the class.

She raised her hand. "Professor?"

Snape turned. "Yes, Miss Arian?" he said coolly.

"I was wondering," she began nervously, "when will we cover growth and stunting potions?" She fidgeted when he didn't reply at once. "Like the finiscrescere…"

"The finiscrescere is an advanced level potion," he answered calmly. "However, that question has nothing whatsoever to do with today's lesson."

Snape had closed the topic, but Arian pressed on boldly. "It's not in the library."

He glared at her. "It is listed in a book in my office, for your information." She opened her mouth to ask if she could borrow it, but Snape must have read her mind.

"No."

"But…" Her hand accidentally hit against her phials, nearly spilling them.

Snape's black eyes glittered. He made an almost imperceptible gesture to the green fluid. She fell silent and put her hands in her lap.

The four friends said goodnight in the common room.

"Harry, wait a second." Arian caught his arm just as he was heading for the boys dormitory. "Can I borrow your invisibility cloak?" she whispered.

"Why?"

"I need to get into Snape's office tonight," she explained.

" **Not** a good idea," put in Hermione from the stairs behind her. But then again, they'd done lots of things that hadn't exactly been good ideas.

Ron's eyes were big. "If anyone finds you…" he began anxiously, but Arian was impatient.

"No one will find me if I have the cloak! Please, Harry?"

Harry knew she wasn't going to do something terribly bad… nothing worse than he'd ever done. She was his friend, after all, and he didn't mind helping her out. "Sure," he shrugged with a smile. "Wait here. I'll be right back."

So, a very short time later, Arian was sneaking out the doorway, alone and safely hidden.

The school was creepy at night. Everything was dark and shadowy, and the eiree part about it was the complete silence. Even the paintings were asleep. The huge castle was empty.

Down the hall she ran, down the stairs, and down more stairs, through more corridors, and down more stairs until at last she reached the dungeons far down in the dark. The door creaked as she pushed it open. She moved noiselessly through the room, passing object that were recognizable by day, but mere shapes by night.

Something somewhere made a tapping sound. She jumped. Every noise sounded like a footstep. Then, she remembered that no one could see her anyways. Hurriedly, she worked several charms and let herself into Professor Snape's office.

She didn't stay long. The book she was after wasn't hard to find. There were only a few volumes on the third shelf, and she figured that it was the largest and oldest of them. Slipping one hand out from under the fabric, she took hold of it carefully and pulled it under the cloak. In its place, she put a small card that said: "I'll give it back". She knew that Snape would have no doubts as to who had taken it. She clutched it to her chest and ran all the way back to her bed, barely stopping to give the password.

Everyone was asleep. Quietly, so as not to wake anyone, she folded Harry's cloak and slipped it under the bed. She changed quickly and sat down, leaning against the window for the light. She took the heavy book and opened it on her lap.

It was written in Latin.


	4. Harry Potter III Arian - chapitre 4

It was the end of October, and Crookshanks had made another supposed attempt to eat Scabbers. Ron and Hermione weren't speaking to each other. Today, they were paired in Herbology. Arian, from her side of the table, watched them stripping the fat pink pods and emptying the shining beans into a wooden pail. She felt bad. Any tension really bothered her.

"How's Scabbers?" she heard Hermione venture timidly.

Ron replied angrily. "He's hiding at the bottom of my bed, shaking."

He missed the pail and the beans scattered onto the greenhouse floor. Arian shook her head. There wasn't a thing she could do.

The first visit to Hogsmeade had been planned for Halloween, but on Halloween morning, Arian was nowhere to be found, and her harp was gone from its case. She had been playing her harp more. She seemed to turn to it whenever she was stressed.

Harry had to stay behind, but Ron and Hermione promised to bring back lots of treats for him. They were so enthusiastic. No one thought to look for Arian. It was assumed that she'd show up in Hogsmeade, but she didn't. Actually, she wasn't seen at all until the very end of the day when the students were returning.

Arian caught sight of her friends amongst the crowd of scattering students and ran over to greet them. Ron and Hermione were chattering about Hogsmeade.

"Dervish and Banges…"

"The wizarding equipment shop…"

"Zonko's Joke Shop…"

"The post office, Harry! About two hundred owls, all color coded depending on how fast you want your letter to get there!"

"Honeydukes has got a new kind of fudge. There's a bit…"

"Wish we could have brought you some butterbeer…"

Arian laughed. "It sounds fabulous!" she interrupted them.

"Hey," Ron said. "Where were you all day?"

She shrugged. "Upstairs, studying. I haven't been feeling well. Had a headache." An odd look flitted across her face and she touched her hand to her head.

"What did you do, Harry?" said Hermione, looking anxious. "Did you get any work done?"

Around them, everyone was dispersing, returning to their common rooms to get ready for the upcoming feast. Soon, the corridor was empty and they were alone. Harry told them of his visit with Professor Lupin.

"And then Snape came in," Harry was saying. "He had a goblet full of some potion, and Lupin said…"

Ron's mouth fell open. "Lupin drank it?" he gasped. "Is he mad?"

Harry leaned in close and continued in an excited whisper. "Yes, he drank it! He said Snape was kind enough to make it for him every day! I don't know," he concluded. "Something just doesn't seem right."

Hermione checked her watch. "We'd better hurry. The feast will be starting in five minutes." She heard a noise behind them and glanced nervously around, but it was only someone passing through the hall. "Well, if he… you know," she lowered her voice. "If he was trying to poison Lupin, he wouldn't have done it right in front of you."

"Who knows," Ron moaned.

"He hates Professor Lupin," mused Harry.

"Well that's new!" Hermione stated sarcastically. "Lupin teaches the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, remember? Everyone knows Snape's wanted that position for ages!"

But before they could continue, Arian suddenly and angrily spoke up in a tone that almost frightened them.

"Well I think you should be more trusting of Professor Snape!" she declared. "For all his threats, he'd never do a thing to permanently harm any of us or put the school in danger in any way. And how can you think ill of him now, after all he's done? From what you've told me, he was the one who figured Quirrel out and saved your life in that Quiddich match. He'd do anything to protect us! He knows a lot more than he lets anyone else know he knows. He watches everything, or haven't you noticed, and sees things everyone else seems to miss. If he suspects Professor Lupin, there's probably a good reason for it!"

She stopped, out of breath. They stared at her. For one thing, they'd never heard her say so many words at one time before, and then she was actually defending Snape!

"I… I left something up on my bed," she stammered awkwardly. "I'd better go and get it."

She ran off and the others watched her.

Hermione was the first to break the stunned silence. "The stairs are that way," she commented, pointing in the opposite direction.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were on their way back to Gryffindor Tower. It had been a wonderful evening, and the only thing that worried Harry was that he hadn't seen Arian since that afternoon. She hadn't come down to the feast. In fact, she had vanished in her usual way just after loosing her temper with them in the hallway. He grinned, remembering the things she'd said. They reached the corridor that ended with the portrait of the Fat Lady and halted. It was jammed with students.

The painting had been slashed, the Lady was gone, and the door was closed. Confusion and mild chaos followed. Sirius Black had somehow entered the castle. Dumbledore sent the Gryffindors to the Great Hall and very soon, the other three houses joined them.

"The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle," Professor Dumbledore told them as McGonagall and Flitwick closed all the doors to the hall. "I'm afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances, and any disturbance should be reported to me immediately. Send word with one of the ghosts."

With a casual wave of his wand, he cleared the room and conjured hundreds of sleeping bags. Then, he bade them goodnight shut the door behind him. For a long while, of course, there was unceasing whispering from the students, but after the lights went out, things calmed down considerably. Hermione sat up abruptly and looked around, her brown eyes scanning the room.

She lay back down. "Where's Arian?" she hissed to Harry.

"I don't know," Harry whispered back.

In all the excitement they'd forgotten about her again.

Once every hour, a teacher would come into the hall to check that everything was quiet. Around three in the morning, when most of the students had fallen asleep, Professor Dumbledore came in, and the three friends quickly pretended to be asleep.

Dumbledore's footsteps grew nearer. "All is well here?" he asked Percy.

They conversed for a few moments. Then, the door creaked slightly as it opened again. Quick footsteps moved towards them. Harry kept still, listening hard.

"Headmaster?" It was Snape. "The whole of the third floor has been searched and the dungeons. He's not there."

They heard Dumbledore's hushed voice. "What about the Astronomy tower? The Owlery?"

"All searched."

"Very well, Severus. I really didn't expect Black to linger."

There was a small silence.

"What about the girl?" Dumbledore lowered his voice even more.

"Miss Arian has not been found," Snape answered softly.

"I'm worried about her."

"It is possible that she is in the Gryffindor room," Snape suggested. He continued in a controlled tone. "She was headed back to the tower this afternoon. I overheard her talking with Potter and his friends."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione struggled not to react.

"Have you any idea as to how he got in?" Snape changed the topic.

"Many, Severus, each of them as unlikely as the next."

"You remember our conversation, Headmaster, just before the start of the term?"

"I do, Severus." There was something like warning in his voice.

"It seems almost impossible that Black could have entered the school without inside help. I did express my concerns when you appointed…"

"I do not believe," Dumbledore interrupted, "that a single person inside this castle would have admitted Black." His tone left no room for further conversation. Soon, the professors left.

Harry glanced sideways at Ron and Hermione. Their eyes were open too, reflecting the starry ceiling.

"What was that about?" Ron mouthed.

The next week went by very quickly. Hermione was absorbed with her studies. Arian had reappeared with very little explanation the day after Halloween. She said she had gotten stuck in the common room, which was quite possible, and since no one could prove it otherwise, she had her excuse. She kept mostly to herself and her work. For one reason or another, she ended up late to potions class every day, but she wasn't getting in trouble for it.

Harry had Quidditch practice in the evenings. The first match was the upcoming Saturday, and they were playing against Hufflepuff instead of Slytherin, a change of plans that greatly upset the Gryffindor team and required a completely different strategy.

Nobody was happy about Snape substituting for the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Ron got detention almost at once and was in a rage because of it. Hermione was angry and humiliated. Harry was more than slightly puzzled, and only Arian didn't say a word.

She was strangely quiet, and that night, wrote the essay diligently and without complaint. Why they had suddenly skipped to page three hundred and ninety four and were researching werewolves, no one had any idea. Hermione acted frustratingly superior, as if she knew something about it, but she didn't tell.

The entire school turned out for the Quidditch game that Saturday. The weather was dreadful. Hermione had the brilliant idea part way into the game to cast a charm on Harry's glasses and make them waterproof. When Wood called a time-out, she jumped up from where she was sitting between Ron and Arian and ran down to meet Harry.

The rain was relentless, the sky was getting darker and darker as night came on. The conditions were dangerous, and everyone was afraid that the game would go on into the night. Lightening flashed, thunder rumbled, the wind howled, and the cold numbed players and spectators alike.

It happened very fast. Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff Seeker, was streaking after the Snitch. Wood gave an anguished yell from the Gryffindor goal posts. Harry threw himself flat on his broom. He rocketed forward, gaining on Diggory fast. He turned pale, and slipped off the broom, falling.

Hermione and Ron were out of their seats so fast. Diggory caught the Snitch. Dumbledore came running onto the field, absolutely irate. The dementors had come onto the field against his order. He scattered them and slowed Harry's fall. Ron, Hermione, and Arian watched long enough to see Harry land safely on the ground.

Arian's eyes were huge. Across the stands, she saw Malfoy smirking triumphantly. She glared at him for being so insensitive. Then, she followed her friends, running so fast that her scarf slipped off and fell in the mud.


End file.
